Talk to Me

When my babies were tiny I wished they would talk to me so I’d know what they were crying about. When they were teens I wished they would talk to me so I could help them through the perils of high school. Now they are grown and they talk to me about all the other things that adults talk about: overwork, horrifying political events, worries over their kids, being stretched to the limit. I didn’t manage to raise them to have a better life than mine, which makes me sad.

Please use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “talk to me.”

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

4 thoughts on “Talk to Me”

  1. Maria had been able to speak to her friend Lázara via her cell phone. She sounded different, incoherent at times and not able to maintain the thread of the conversation. Her younger daughter got on the phone and informed Maria that her mother was in the grips of a deep depression. Maria gathered that much when her friend was back on the phone and she demanded of her, “Talk to me.” It was then she opened up and stated in a slurry voice that she’d not worked in months. The bills were piling up and there just wasn’t enough money to pay for all the necessary things. Maria knew then, that her friend had reached her breaking point.

  2. It was a sad scene. One was dressed all in black, the other in jeans and a jacket, both were silent and it was obvious something had happened. The one in jeans was shaking, “please, talk to me,” they pleaded, their breath catching in their throat. The other shook their head slowly. They had been there for hours, barely moving, barely moving. Too much shock, too much pain left them wordless.

  3. “Talk to me , please! Pliiiiisss,pliiiiss,” She had promised herself she wouldn’t sound desperate on phone , but here she did it again .
    “Total lack of self-control”, that is what Amy would have said to her , shaking her pretty little head. Again , sound of heavy breathing on the other end . She almost screamed out “Why ain’t you talking ? What have I done to earn your ire ? ” Someone cleared his throat , a male voice , definitely , and then gently replaced the receiver. She could make out the difference between slamming and gentle keeping of the phone down . She was the phone -whisperer, wasn’t she ?

    She burst into tears . This was so un-characteristic of her sister.Why on earth should she shut her out?

  4. She spotted an empty lot and she drove towards it. “Where are you going, that’s not the way”, Isabèl said.
    “I know….”, she answered. “I know how you’re feeling, you don’t have to hide it from me”. Isabèl fell silent.
    She parked the car, and turned towards Isabèl, who avoided her eyes. “Look at me, Isa. You can trust me”.

    ” I do”.

    “So talk to me”, she said.

    Isa only had to look at her once, and realized no amount of words could explain that look. A look where all her walls collapsed, tears rimming her eye lids.

    She already understood. They sat in silence.

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